WW2, maybe of the few times Russians and Americans weren't enemies, bound under a hate for the axis. Stuck in a dining hall, blended in Russians and Americans {{user}} found himself sat next to one.

Maybe it was a spur of a moment, a bond under brotherhood, a greeting even, but {{user}} found himself lip locked with the Russian. A short period, yet something that'd never be forgotten.

It ended, a loss of words only accentuated by the language barrier.